Page 4 of My Best Friend’s Billionaire Brother (Billionaire Brothers #4)
Josie
“Come on, I’d obviously get a separate room from you guys,” Owen says, squeezing my hand as we walk down the grocery store aisle.
It’s our weekly date night, and we’d decided on making spaghetti at my place.
I’d initially wanted to go out, but after his New York trip last weekend, Owen insisted on staying in and saving the money.
I can’t blame him. I should also probably be saving up for the bachelorette weekend in just a few weeks.
The bachelorette weekend that just so happens to be the current topic of conversation .
I laugh, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, that wouldn’t be weird at all—pulling my boyfriend along on my best friend’s bachelorette.”
I shoot him a playful look only to see that he’s not laughing. It takes a few seconds to dawn on me that maybe Owen hadn’t been joking just now.
“Wait,” I say, trying to reign in my laughter. “You’re not serious?”
He scrunches up his face, reaching down to grab a box of spaghetti noodles from the shelf. He brushes a strand of blond hair from his eyes, his baggy t-shirt scrunching around his waist as he straightens. “Why not? It’s Vegas , Josie. I’ve always wanted to go.”
I open my mouth, close it, then open it again. “Yeah, well you can’t tag along on a bachelorette party,” I insist. This is common knowledge, isn’t it?
“But it’s the bachelor party too!” Owen says, his eyes lighting up again. “It’s not like there won’t be any guys. ”
I narrow my eyes at him in incredulity. “Bachelor and bachelorette parties aren’t exactly plus-one events,” I protest.
“Sure, I get it’s unorthodox,” Owen concedes as we make our way to the checkout counter. “But it’s in such a cool place. God, I’d love to go to Vegas. And since you’re already going, it’s kind of like a perfect time.”
“Except that it’s not. Because it’s my best friend’s bachelorette party,” I insist, still shocked that he brought this up.
Owen is silent for a moment, pursing his lips. I can tell he’s irritated but is trying to hold it in. Finally, he shakes his head. “I just feel kind of left out that you get to go have this cool weekend in Vegas, and I’m left alone here,” he admits.
Just then, the checker turns to us. Owen doesn’t step forward, so I do, pulling out my card and paying for the dinner ingredients.
Owen, the checker, and I stand in silence while we wait for my payment to go through and the checker bags our groceries.
I offer her a quiet thank you as I grab the bag and Owen and I head for the exit.
“I mean, I feel kind of left out when you take trips to New York without me,” I say quietly as we step out into the chilly evening air.
My conversation with Will last week comes to mind, and I hate to admit that he’s right, but maybe he had a point.
When I think about it more, it really starts to nag at me.
Owen is rolling his eyes. “That’s different. New York is right down the road.”
“That almost makes it worse,” I protest. “Like, why haven’t I come yet when it’s such an easy trip?”
“Those are work trips, Josie. They’re boring. This is nothing like that, and you know it. Don’t try to twist this.”
I glance at him in surprise. That last comment was harsh, wasn’t it? I turn back ahead as we make our way down the road toward my apartment.
“I’m sorry, Owen. Chloe wouldn’t like it.
And neither would Turner. I’d love to have you there, but it’s not my call.
” I add the last sentence to help soften the blow.
But in all honesty, no, I wouldn’t love to have him there.
Not that I’m planning on doing anything too wild and crazy—I am the mom of the group after all—but I’m looking forward to a girls’ weekend where I don’t have to worry about Owen.
Why does he care so much about this anyway?
After a moment of silence, Owen moves closer to me, throwing his arm around my shoulder and tugging me into his side as we walk. He plants a kiss to the top of my head. “I understand. It’s Chloe’s call.”
I smile, feeling the tension dissipate just a bit. “Besides, you get to come to Cabo,” I remind him.
“True,” he says as we take a turn off the road and walk across the parking lot of my apartment complex. After all, what could be more romantic than a wedding weekend in Cabo? Surely better than a simple trip to New York. Or even Vegas.